Black Poppy
by Necrotic-Sonata
Summary: An Aoshi x OC fanfic.
1. Chapter 1

This is a Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction, focusing around Aoshi and his troubles. Also, as always, an OC of my creation.

The Meiji Restoration changed everything for everyone. Whether that change was good or bad, well, that just depended on who you were. For many civilians and the Satsuma and Choshu provinces, that change was good. Nothing better could've happened in the world. But there were those who didn't see things exactly the same way. Men, old and young, threw themselves into war to fight for a better country, to fight so people would be happy. After the Revolution, however, was not a warm welcome for a handful of men. Few were lucky enough to get offered solid occupations as guards and officers to enforce the law of the new era, and others settled down with wives and made families, or, rejoined their old ones where they'd left off. For a few, however, no place in the world wanted them. They had gone to war, expected to die on the battlefield, and had been unfortunate enough not to. Returning to a foreign world, they had no place to call "home". After all, especially for the younger ones, fighting was all they knew. And now it was even illegal to carry swords. So these men did one of a few things- They continued killing, being a manslayer; they took up arms under a new, stronger leader as an underground mafia; or they become wanderers, who had nowhere to call home, just where they happened to be laying their heads at night. These men… they were all people whom the world could, or would, easily do without. Few made a difference anymore. Their time had come, and now it was forever gone.

I sympathized with these war veterans; some of them anyways. A manslayer named Jin-e Udo, who had took this surname to give himself a more "swordsman" feel, had _visited_ the village a while back. He had come during the night, and slew countless men, women, and children. As for me, he apparently didn't have a taste for flower shops, because when I woke the next morning, not so much as a hair was out of place in my home and shop. My favorite crimson ribbon was even still hanging lazily over a chair, exactly where I'd left it.

I was the type of woman who, if given a chance, would've thrown herself headlong into the Meiji Revolution and never looked back. But I knew my fate if I had acted upon such urges. My mother had done such. She'd disguised herself as a man, and given me and my sister Kuuka to my Aunt Tsubaki while she and my brother Jin-e ran off to fight for our future. Unfortunately, about three-fourths of the way through the revolution, my mother was discovered for what she was- a female. Both she and Jin-e were sentenced to death, Jin-e for being an accomplice. Jin-e escaped and joined the, who defended him, while he left my mother to her own execution. His charges were eventually dropped, and when the revolution was over, instead of coming home to Aunt Tsubaki, Kuuka and I, he ventured on as a manslayer. We were so heartbroken. Aunt Tsubaki would've rolled over in her grave to know that Jin-e had come through the village on a killing spree. He'd murdered his own friends, the people he grew up with as a child, teenager, and young adult. But he intentionally skipped over the shop. He knew exactly where we were… either he didn't care, or the lure of slaughtering his younger sisters just wasn't appealing that day. Since then, I hadn't heard anything of him, or from him, of course. I often wondered how he was doing.

Fighting and swordsmanship wasn't everyone's style. I'd learned enough kenpo to keep me alive, not make me a victim, but not enough to turn me into a formidable opponent. It was just good enough to keep away the bandits and highwaymen. Exceptional fighters, and fighters in multitudes were my weakness.

­

One night, I met such a weakness.

Kuuka works at a local restaurant called the Ake... something. Her husband, Falkner, tends to repairs around the shop when needed, but he, too, has another job as a fisherman at the port that leaves him little time for my petty deceased Auntie's flower shop. The only one willing to keep her memory alive in it, was me. So I stock the shop. Usually, my trips to the outskirts of Yokohama go pretty smoothly, with the exception of my horrid sense of direction. Maybe I'll bump into a bandit or two, but it's never been anything I couldn't handle alone. One night, I got a delightful surprise.

Kuuka was so upset to hear I had been planning to make the trip to pick flowers alone, at night. She'd insisted that I take Falkner with me- He was one of those young, lucky revolutionary veterans who'd found my sister. He'd keep me safe from the bad men. But being the stubborn, arrogant, "pompous" ass that I am, I refused the help and left the second she wasn't paying attention.

I wouldn't live to regret this.

Fate have it, or just good old fashioned luck, I wandered into a forest clearing, with several bouquets of flowers cradled in my arms… where highwaymen were camped.

And I don't mean it was just one or two of them. There was a horde of them. At least forty, maybe sixty. Perhaps more.

They were all drunk. Drunk, laughing, and swearing around the fires they'd set up. I'd planned to quietly back away, back into the forest and perhaps go around the clearing, but any hope of that cracked instantly, like the stick I stepped on backing up.

Instantaneously, it was dead silent as all of their glazed, beady eyes turned to me. Finally, one called out,

"Hey hey there, beautiful!"

A roar of laughter overtook me, and a wave of alcohol overwhelmed my sensitive senses.

"Where'd you come from, baby?"

"Who cares?! Come on over here, have some fun with us!!"

And the catcalls began. Some whistled. Some made obscene gestures. It was when they all began to stand up and reach for their weapons that their intentions were painfully unanimous.

Clutching the flowers to my chest as if they might help me, I turned and bolted towards Kyoto- or, where I thought Kyoto to be. I'd wandered in so many different directions, I was no longer aware. But of course, running in a kimono and geta, I didn't get very far before I was caught up to.

Four of them held my arms alone. My flowers fell to the ground, in which one man stepped carelessly on them, the same one who'd made the first remark to me, apparently the leader of the gang. He smiled toothily, bending down right in my face. He was so close, the alcohol from his breath was almost ­powerful enough to knock me out. I screamed, silently praying someone would hear me. The man quickly slammed a huge hand over my mouth.

"Now you shut up woman, if you know what's in your best interest."

There were several chuckles in the sea of robbers. My eyes pricked with tears that I wouldn't let shed, no matter what. So I closed them. But just the thought of what was mere seconds away was enough to-

"Arrgh!!"

The leader highwayman coughed, spraying a wet liquid across the front of my perfectly cleansed black kimono. His hand dropped from my mouth, and a thud was heard. Upon reopening my eyes, standing behind him, was a tall man clad in a white, yellow-collared long-coat. I lifted my head, and met his eyes. Shock trembled through my heart. There was so much bloodlust in his eyes. But a hint of sorrow framed that frightful anger. I was half afraid that, after he disposed of these highwaymen, he would turn his kodachi on me.

His weapon twitched towards me and back.

"Let go of the woman, or I'll kill you next."

The men whimpered and stuttered, but released me, and took off into the forest.

"Kill the leader, and the rest scatter like dogs," He murmured in distaste.

"The rest of you, get out of here, now, if you value your lives at all."

Many retreated. But a few were foolish enough to stay. The man sheathed his weapon inside his jacket, scowling. It looked like it was plastered there for eternity. He walked past me, not even so much as casting me a single glance. I turned in time to see him work his magic… because to me, that's exactly what it was. With single, effortless punches, he was taking out four, five, even six at a time. Not even Falkner could do this. I was stunned, amazed, and very much pleased with this man's positively impeccable timing. In what seemed like fragile seconds, there wasn't a thief left standing. He turned, and walked back past me, ignoring me again. It took me a second to realize that he planned to just up and leave me out here.

"H-hey! Wait, please!"

He did not comply, and I was forced to give chase after him.

"Please! Tell me how to get back to Yokohama! I cannot-"

"If you're talking about that little fisherman village," He interrupted,

"Then it's burned down. There's nothing left of it. No survivors, either."­

I froze in mid-step. His words played a thousand times in my head. He said this as casually and apathetically as if he were commenting on my clothes.

"_Then it's burned down. There's nothing left of it. No survivors, either."_

I barely noticed him stop and turn around to look at me. In my sight, he was swimming with the trees, the ground…

* * *

I was in another place. My arms were folded across the counter, and sleep dangled dreams sweeter than roses in front of my eyes. But my mind cackled an evil tune, making sure I stayed in the land I was. It wasn't fair.

And then the door… creaked opened. I'd have to remind Falkner to fix that. The scent of the outside world- foods, sand, dirt, trees- all mingled with the smell of flowers inside momentarily, until the person shut the door. My nose involuntarily quivered- an unpleasant but not fatal scent I'd never entirely get used to. It took me a moment to register "Customer!" from the civilian's being here, but they waited patiently all the same. I groggily lifted my head, and saw familiar eyes. Blue eyes, cold and harsh, that thirsted for the blood of men. Sorrowful, pained eyes. _Vengeful _eyes. But I couldn't pin his face to anyone I knew, no matter how much I tried to categorize him. So my thoughts eventually wandered to,

"_What is a man like _this_ doing in a flower shop…?"_

"Flowers," He stated bluntly.

My lips twitched, suppressing a grin. If I smiled, this man looked like type that would throw himself over the counter just to reach my face to tear it off.

"What kind?"

His brow furrowed, and he stared intensely back into my eyes, as if I'd suddenly morphed into something beyond recognition.

"_Typical male…"_

But something told me he wasn't buying roses or tulips for his sweetheart. I tried to help him out.

"If you tell me the occasion, I can help you with what species you should-?"

"I don't care what kind," Was his curt reply, cutting me off.

"Flowers are flowers. Just something that looks nice."

His eyes left mine, and he browsed for a moment, before resting on a particular flower.

"I want a bunch of that one."­

"You mean… You want a bouquet of…"

My voice trailed after he shot a cruel look at me. I turned, and saw what he wanted.

"Black poppy?"

I reached up, and plucked twelve from their vase.

"That will be…"

And then it hit me, who he was. The man from the forest, who had saved me from the thieves.

"…nothing. This one is all on me."

He took the flowers, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"No," He cooed in a voice that was sickly sweet.

"Thank _you_."

And then the flower shop burst into a blazing fire. Flames licked at my kimono, my hair, my skin. I moaned in pain, reaching for the man… He would save me again. But instead he faded into ashes before my eyes. I screamed, remembering my sister, pregnant with my niece or nephew, and her husband, Falkner in the back room. I ran through the flames as if they were nothing at all, tears flowing freely down my face. I charged through the door, and collapsed into incoherent screams and sobs that I myself couldn't even begin to comprehend. Their bodies lay amidst the flames, charred and dead.

* * *

It took me a moment to realize it had all been a horrible dream when I finally awoke. I lay on the earth, whimpering, choking on my own silent sobs. The man with the white long jacket was knelt before a obelisk-shaped rock, his eyes closed, hands clasped together in what seemed like prayer. I sat up, shamefully wiping my cheeks free of tears. Standing up, I started towards the first direction that seemed appealing.

"I already told you," The man spoke.

"There is nothing left of that village. You've no home to return to."

"How do you know this?" I challenged hoarsely.

I'd hoped that had all been just a dream, too.

"You weren't there."

"Yes, I was."

My lip trembled, my knees little more than jelly.

"Why… What… happened there?"

"The Cabinet Officer Okubo Toshimichi was residing in the village at the time. It was _supposed_ to be secret, but some spies found out he was there. Those people were followers of Saigo Takamori, of the Satsuma rebellion. They decided to take the opportunity to fulfill a certain vendetta."

I whipped around to face him, my heart breaking in two.

"So… they scorched the entire village…?"

The man's eyes remained closed, his hands clasped. His silence was more than enough answer for me.

"But… the only two… three people I loved… they were… all…"

Still no word from the peanut gallery. Why wouldn't it speak when you wanted it to?!

He opened his eyes. For the first time, that little tinge of sorrow overtook the anger, the thirstiness for the blood. But it couldn't have been pity for me, for a crybaby little girl he'd just had to rescue from men he took out effortlessly.

"You've lost someone dear to you… too."

It took all my being to tack on that extra "too".

Still nothing from him. I turned back around, and drug my feet across the ground. It felt as if they weighed a thousand kilograms. Something in me just had to see the wreckage myself. Strangely enough, I had no problem finding Yokohama. It must have been my subconscious that knew the way back, and that any other day struggling to find my path, I had been thinking too hard. I prayed the entire walk that the man in the white coat would jump out from behind a tree and laugh at my stupidity, crying, "I got you! Oh, that was a good one! I can't believe you actually _fell_ for that!!"

He never appeared.

I had been visualizing the mess in my mind, what the town would look like after a fire. But no matter how many times, however many ways, that I pictured it, it never prepared me for what I really saw.

If I hadn't have known better than the back of my hand where my floral shop had been, I never, in a hundred lifetimes, would have guessed it. The entire place was a pile of ash and old charred wood that hadn't been burned all the way. Smoke billowed out everywhere, from every crevice and used-to-be window. There wasn't even a blackened body anywhere, to show that earlier that day, there had been life. Because now, you never would have guessed it.

I knew I wanted to go back to the man. Who knew how many of those highwaymen were still floating around? I _needed_ him. I just didn't know when I would be turning back.

So I wandered aimlessly, brushing my fingers across the bark of trees, the tops of bushes. I stopped short when something caught my eye. I retraced my steps, and pulled back a thin branch out of the way. It was a small patch of black poppies. I slouched against the tree, and cried.

* * *

The man was still praying at the rocks by the time I returned. It must've been nearly an hour passed since I'd left him, which made me begin to wonder if he had intentionally been hanging around, waiting on me to come back. But the thought was gone as soon as it had come. _Don't be so vain. He doesn't care one way or the other about you, but you _need_ him now. Time to kiss up._

I knelt down, and pulled my favorite crimson ribbon from my hair, and draped it about the obelisk. The man's eyes opened, and took notice of my ribbon. I placed the black poppies at the base of the rock, then clasped my own hands together. To my surprise, the man took my ribbon, and tied it around the base of the rock, tucking the flowers into it. He clasped his hands again, and shut his eyes. I followed suit.

"What is your name, woman?"

I was slightly taken aback by his question, but answered him, never reopening my eyes.

"Kasumicho Haruka."

When he didn't give his own, I asked for it. He didn't answer, and I took sanctuary in listening to the wind blow, softly rustling the leaves in the trees. One of the most soothing sounds in the world…

His reply came several minutes later.

"Shinomori Aoshi."

His voice had been different than earlier; not so cold and apathetic. _This_ voice was lovely, soft like velvet. I could help but smile bitterly in spite of myself, insincerely.

"It is nice to meet you... Aoshi."

"Mmm."

My smile widened.

I was garunteed to live a few days longer.

* * *

And that was, actually, my first attempt at a Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction. I hope you found it entertaining. Also, some fun facts about the story you've just read…

Black poppies can signify rejuvenation and rebirth in flower language. The can also stand for death, hatred, and farewell. Obviously, my intentions were the latter. But that is subject to change later in the story, of course. Oops! Was that just a spoiler?! My bad, my bad...

I did not make up that incident with the assassination of Toshimichi. That really happened. I was so happy to include that in my story. It makes this a little more realistic, and a little less fantastical. Also, did you know that groups like the Oniwaban and then Shinsingumi really existed in the Meiji Restoration?


	2. Chapter 2

I spent the next two years of my life with Lord Aoshi. During this time, I spent more times feigning pained sobbing, pleading and begging on my knees than a slave of the Edo Era would have. I did this all to stay with Aoshi. Every slip I made, every mishap, every ill word- And he'd threaten to leave me in the town. Sometimes, I think he enjoyed it. Often, I used to pickpocket the rich, and give to the poor. I'd steal something from some rich, post-Edo accomplished entrepreneur or jerk-off, and turn around and give that money to a starving little girl sitting in an alleyway. It was my favorite pastime- besides flower arranging, of course. Aoshi-sama found out what I was doing when a child no older than five was bawling, tugging at the hem of his coat, begging for even a few yen. He had waved off the pitiful beggar, but was completely astounded when he was offering him a piece of bread an hour later. He wasn't going to give the issue much more thought, until the boy ran up to me, hugging my legs, cheering, "Thank you so much, miss pretty lady!" Aoshi's bewildered expression turned into a hideous scowl, and I'd known I was in trouble.

"You have no business with street dogs."

"They're not dogs!" I'd argued heatedly later on in the hotel.

"They're human beings, Aoshi! You mean to tell me you really don't care if an innocent child starves and dies in the street?"

He tilted his head, giving me an apathetic look. I had pursed my lips, and given him the most evil, most hateful, spiteful look I could manage.

"Beast! Monster!" I had cried out, storming from the room.

"Call me what you will," He dared.

"But don't ever feed an orphan or street rat again."

I could not help it. Even before my time with Aoshi, I had few weak spots. Only rape and murder (And the death of loved ones) were high up on the list. I'd always had a soft spot reserved for children, but until I'd left the remnants of Yokohama with him, and seen the kind of poverty that they lived in, I'd never considered them such a weakness, really. In Yokohama, the village of big fish and big hearts, no one ever went hungry. There was no place else like it in the world. And now, that place was nothing but a figment of my imagination. There was no place at all like Yokohama… not even Yokohama.

So, in defiance to Aoshi, I continued to feed more children behind his back. Of course, now he was paying attention, so I'd had to be much more discreet. Everything I stole and gave, I warned the child to never tell anyone about me, or come up to me on the streets. They'd all promised, naturally, and things went smoothly for about a month. Then, I reached a town strapped for cash- and strapped with starving children and teens. So, I was forced to pickpocket an ex-samurai. (Now Aoshi had been very, very, _very _strict on kenpo. By this point, I knew quite a bit. Not enough to be able to even touch Aoshi, no way, but enough to single-handedly take out a hundred highwaymen at once. Yessir, I was moving on up!) I could've had this guy's head in a bag, but that wasn't what I was aiming for. Secrecy, discreetness- I'd failed miserably at both. I was busted in a moment, and soon I was caught in the samurai's hands, being dangling above a gasping crowd.

"Try and steal from me, will you, bitch?" He snarled.

"I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget in the _next_ life!"

Aoshi-sama was at my side in an instant. For a moment, I thought he was so "worried" about me, he'd forgotten that I'd snuck behind his back. The samurai held me tight in his grasp, while he brought back his other hand, balling it into a fist.

"Strike that woman, and I'll teach _you_ a lesson for the next life," Aoshi seethed.

"That is your one and final warning."

The samurai ignored him, and thrust his fist forward. In less than a second, I was lying flat on my face in the dirt, and so was the samurai. Although, _he_ was screaming bloody murder. But I was only smug for half a second, before Aoshi lifted me from the ground by my scalp and drug me back to the inn.

"I warned you," He hissed.

I was actually frightened by this point. I'd rarely seen Aoshi this angry- and never directed at _me_.

"I'll leave you. You don't have anyone else but me. You _need_ me. You, however, are _nothing _to_ me_. A _flower girl_, a _nuisance_, a pain in my _ass_. All things I could do without."

"Then leave, Aoshi!" I had challenged, positive he wouldn't actually follow through with his bluff.

"But I will never agree to terms that involve leaving defenseless children to die!"

He merely stared at me, a flicker of premonition in his eyes. That look I would come to revere as the Lord Aoshi's you're-going-to-live-to-regret-this look. I'd fear, stutter, reconsider and negotiate every other time I'd see it after now. But now, I had a hard lesson to learn, and I had sneered at him, and crawled into the futon, wrapping myself into the sheets. I was restless only a moment, wondering if maybe he wasn't bluffing. But that idea was silly, unthinkable to me then. Because a life without Lord Aoshi was unthinkable.

I awoke the next morning in a bit of a fluster. Usually, Aoshi was wide awake way before I was. He'd be leaning casually against the farthest wall from me, with his arms crossed and eyes closed. This morning, he was no where in sight.

"_He went to get breakfast,"_ I told myself.

But then I remembered he always made me go get it. And being so methodical, the Lord…

I cried aloud, flinging the blankets from my body. My hand instinctively reached for my kodachi Aoshi had given me, only it wasn't by the futon, as I always placed it. Aoshi _never_ touched my things. 

Whimpering, I threw on my geta sandals, nearly tripping over my own feet and breaking my neck in the process. I ran through the entire city, tearing apart every shop, alley, and booth looking for him. By the time I'd searched only half of the place, I was already in frantic tears. No one had seen him, upon hearing my description. In a fury of angst and hyped-depression, I flew to the next town. No one had seen him there, either. Finally, it was him that had found me crying a river in front of the inn of the fourth area I had ravaged. At first, I was so happy I called out his name as a mother would call for her long-lost child. And then I remembered that he'd put me through this misery purposefully. And, by the smug look plastered on his features, he'd thoroughly enjoyed it, too. I cried even harder at this horrid betrayal, all at my expense. I never, ever swore, but right then I did. I swore his name to a very hot, fiery place, and called him the son of a female dog. All the while, Aoshi just laughed, a dark, maniacal laugh that frightened me even as I swore. I stopped speaking when I realized that he was only enjoying this, too. He was breaking me, bit by bit, smashing every habit and nature of mine that I held dear. I pictured myself as a ragged woman, with disregard for everyone and everything, who spat at passing beggars, and slept with every single man she met, sometimes for money, sometimes not. I shuddered, horrified, traumatized. What I didn't know then, was that that was not Aoshi's goal. He wanted to mold me into a heartless, emotionless bastard. But a heartless, emotionless bastard who could take lives, and still have self-respect for herself- that was the star he shot for.

Of course, he missed. But he landed pretty damn close. After two years, I'd learned everything Aoshi had to teach me about kenpo, and I was "extremely exceptional", as he'd put it, with my kodachi. Naturally, I was still perfecting these said techniques, unlike Aoshi, who'd I'd never seen even close to losing a fight. But that was to be expected. However, as for my personality, he could barely so much as scratch the surface of that. I still went behind his back and stole, turning around and giving handouts to the less fortunate. Only, I realized, he didn't care anymore. I wasn't cold and unfeeling. Quite the contrary- He'd said that I was the most warm-hearted person he'd ever met. The only one who rivaled my kindness was a man Aoshi called the Battousai. He spoke his name with reverence, yet anger. Before much longer than he'd made the comment, I realized that Aoshi's eyes and his heart didn't thirst for the blood of many men- just that one. For whatever reason, I had no clue what, but this man had driven Aoshi to murder.

"Aoshi," I finally commanded.

He stopped walking, but I was making an effort to keep my knees from knocking together. He kept his back to me and waited patiently for me to speak. I furrowed my brow, straightened my back, and tried to put as much influence and power into my tone as I could muster. I'd never commanded anything of Aoshi, ever. But I was going to try now.

I'd come a long way, as to how to catch Aoshi's attention. At first, he would not stop and acknowledge my presence if I called his name a thousand times. Then he would interrupt and reprimand me before I'd even made my point. Now, he listened to whatever I had to say, and waited until I was completely finished, no matter how ridiculous or stupid my comment was.

But Aoshi knew every aspect of my life. He knew that my father and aunt had succumbed to the cholera outbreak in the Bakamatsu before the Meiji Restoration. He realized that when Yokohama burned down, that I was upset with myself for being out to restock the flower store, leaving my sister and her husband, and my niece-or-nephew-to-be to die in the fire, and not being there to die with them, like I should have rightfully been. He even had it figured out that I hated marriage and commitment, but loved children, so I planned to adopt a child. He was not impressed with that.

But to me, Aoshi was… simply, Aoshi. I did not know anything about him. His family, how he'd gotten so strong, his lifestyle before meeting me. I couldn't even begin to guess who it was that was buried beneath the obelisk-rock.

"I think it is time we had a much needed conversation."

"Concerning…?"

"I do not know anything about you, Aoshi. Won't you tell me?"

He began walking again, and I ran to catch up.

"Wait! You know everything there is to know about me! And I know nothing about you! Why do you hide it? Don't you think that after all this time, if I was going to run away from you, I would have? Are you afraid that I will judge you?"

"It makes no difference whether or not you judge me for my past. All of your assessments of me have already been made."

"Then why do you still hide?"

He faltered, and turned around on me so fast that it nearly gave me whiplash.

"I do not hide," He corrected.

"If it were necessary to tell you something about myself, don't you think I would have?"

I bowed my head, suddenly finding my feet interesting.

"So maybe it's not so much of a necessity. But I would just like to know-"

Realization struck me, and I found myself talking to no one. Aoshi was a short ways ahead of me, and I ran after him again. This time, I walked behind him silently. I knew he was a man a few words, who would rather do his talking with his fist. I was foolish beyond words to think I could actually get him to open up to me for a moment.

"We make camp here," He announced, casually dropping his bag onto the ground.

He knelt down, and dug into his bag. Pulling out a small axe, he tossed it to me.

"Bring back wood for a fire."

I complied wordlessly, catching the weapon with one hand.

For a few months, the towns had not been so far apart. In less than a day's trip, we could make it from one place to another. So it had been a while since I'd had to cut wood for a fire. Obviously, I'd forgotten the intensity to which I hated it. It left huge calluses on my hands that hurt for days, and then they suddenly burst. Blood would stream out of them, and my hands would twitch and burn while I tried to rewrap them to prevent infection.

I returned to him with a handful of wood about an hour later. He gave a grunt at the measly pile that I dropped before him.

"I'm sorry," I apologized.

"It's rained here recently. Many of the trees are no good as far as igniting a fire goes."

"We'll make do."

And so he lit the logs aflame, and gave me meats and vegetables to cleanse in the river. I brought them back, and with his kodachi, carved thick, long sticks, like skewers. It became clear he wanted kabobs tonight.

"There is something I must do."

"I thought you were looking for the Battousai…?"

He closed his eyes, and tossed his skewer into the fire. Flames danced on his skin, his hair. It gave him a haunting look.

"I am. But that will have to wait, now. A more pressing matter has come up, and I will be leaving you soon."

I almost choked on the pepper in my mouth.

"Leave me? Why? What is it?!"

"The people that are buried by Yokohama…"

"Yes?"

"Those were four of the few people that ever had the right to call themselves my friends."

Finally! I was getting somewhere with him. I bit off the last chunk of meat, and then ditched the skewer, crawling in closer to him, all ears.

"They were murdered, and until recently, the murderer has been locked behind bars. Being in jail, I couldn't do much to him without getting into trouble myself. I do not wish to draw this kind of attention 

to me. But he has somehow managed to hire fighters from his cell to break him out, and now he is a fugitive from the law."

He reopened his eyes, and glared into the fire.

"It is only a rumor among villagers right now, but I am going to find out. For his sake, he'd better hope he's still in jail."

"Okay, but why do you have to leave me behind?"

His glare turned to me, and I flinched.

"I don't know what kind of fighters these are that he has hired, but it would be much easier if you weren't there and in the way."

"I won't interfere with your revenge! If you thought that way, you wouldn't have even allowed me to come with you when-!"

And it was then that I realized, this wasn't a matter of my skill, or my getting in his way. It was something personal. He knew that if I was there, I could not just sit back and watch. I would try to help. With the Battousai, yes, he wanted to kill him, but apparently, the revenge on these two men were completely different. So I resigned myself in trying to fight with him, and simply nodded. He looked back into the fire, his harsh expression melting just a little.

"We're about a half a day's journey to Osaka. Do you think that you can get there on your own?"

"What?!" I exclaimed, shocked.

"You are leaving in the morning?!"

"I want to."

"Aoshi!"

"Going to Osaka will add an entire day's trip onto my own journey. It will set me back greatly."

I sighed, and placed my palms on the earth, thrusting myself away from him.

"Fine. Go ahead and leave. But what do you want me to do in Osaka?"

"I don't care. Osaka is simply the nearest city."

I crossed my arms, instantly angry. He was just going to up and do as he pleased, and desert me at the closest city, like a possession at a bank? How was that for loyalty?

"You don't want me around anymore," I realized painfully.

He gave no answer. I frowned, my lip puckering pitifully.

"That's why you want me to go to Osaka. You want me out of your hair forever!"

"Not forever," He corrected.

"But you are a liability, Haruka. I like to be able to do as I please, when I please. With someone like you around, I cannot. I always have to protect you. Now that you are stronger, you will not be easily taken advantage of. But there is nothing more for me to teach you, so there is no need for you to hang around. Hone your skills on your own, in Osaka. You should settle down with a family, or open up your own flower shop."

"Aoshi, I enjoy having the company of-"

He exhaled curtly, waving my words off with his hand.

And at that moment, I knew that there was nothing more to be said.

I lay awake the entire night, depressed and restless. For the past two years I had been more satisfied with life than I had been the existence of my entire being. I loved Aoshi, not in the way a woman loved her husband, but as a girl loved her elder brother. He had become my only family, my sensei, and now I felt a detachment come over me, like I'd been betrayed. These feelings I had felt before, similar to the ones that I had for Jin-e.

It dawned on me about Misao. I saw her once, in the village of Kagoshima. I had run away from Aoshi in horror, the first time I saw him slay a man on a "job". With the way she spoke of Aoshi, I figured that, once upon a time, she, too, traveled with Aoshi. And once she had reached her full potential in his eyes, he told her to leave. But her feelings must not have been bitter; she spoke kindly, and fondly of him, demanding that if I knew where he was to tell her that instant. But there was something different between her and me… Upon asking Aoshi later about her, he had never used the word "protect" in reference to Misao, but always used it when speaking of me. He respected her and her abilities as a konoichi, and did not so much as let me go farther than arms length of him most of the time. While he allowed Misao to be a warrior when she left him, he insists that I open up a flower shop. He suggests that I avoid fighting when possible.

I made up my mind when the moon was highest in the sky. As I sat up, I noticed that, oblivious to me earlier, the fire was out, and there was a light drizzle hanging in the air. Aoshi sat against the trunk of a tree, its wide branches shielding him from the rain. That was good, because he was the lightest sleeper ever. He sat, his arms resting on his lap, his head tilted to the side so that this cheek set against the trunk. I rose to my feet, and strapped my kodachi back along the inside of my obi. It was Aoshi's bag that held the utensils and food, so I quietly had to unbutton it to get enough food and money to last me at least a week, maybe longer. Because I was not going to Osaka.

I placed a couple thousand yen in my obi. He had about thirty million in all. This made me even more livid than ever. All this cash he had all along, and he _reprimanded_ me for giving to the poor? Wrapping up my thieving was a bento box, I crammed it full with as much as it could hold, and then stuffed some more. By the time I was done, it wouldn't close at all. So I tied it shut with one of the many ribbons I had bought over the past two years, and put it in my own bag, on top of my kimonos. It was so dark, the only light being the moon, that something caught my eye I hadn't noticed before. Aoshi 's eyes had been closed before. Now, they were wide open, staring off into the forest. Nothing else had changed. I cringed, wondering how long he'd been awake, how long he'd seen me stealing his food and his money. He blinked once, and made no other movements. I stood up, slinging the bag over my shoulder, and headed for the edge of the clearing. For a long time, I thought he was going to let me leave wordlessly.

"You are not going to Osaka."

I stopped, and cast him a listless glance over my shoulder. It broke my heart just to look at him anymore.

"...You did not treat Misao like you do me."

Aoshi raised his head, arching a brow.

"What does Misao have to do with any of this?"

"You trained her, didn't you?"

Aoshi scoffed.

"That was all Han'nya. I had nothing to do with her. We left her in Kagoshima when she was eight. You are my first, and only, pupil."

"'We'?" I questioned.

"And who is this Han-"

I froze, and reminded myself that I was supposed to be leaving Aoshi. Biting my lip, I turned back around. There was no way I would let him have the satisfaction of leaving me. I would take the stand on my own, this one last time.

"Never mind. It doesn't matter anymore."

I walked out of the clearing, and out of his view. I half-hoped he would chase after me, so that I could laugh at him, and step on his perfect white jacket going through him.

But he didn't chase after me. I may not know him at all, but I knew enough about him to know that Aoshi Shinomori does not chase after anything.

Especially not broken ex-apprentices.


End file.
